


Grounded

by flowerpotgirl



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 17:45:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/726070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerpotgirl/pseuds/flowerpotgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What do you do to relax at the end of a long and difficult case?<br/>Not SOP for the police force ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grounded

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sysann](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Sysann).



> Written after a comment from Sysann about a naked James froze my brain and she suggested I write about it. However, my first attempt at smut rather failed and the teen rating is for mentions of nakedness and bondage rather than anything else!

Grounded

James Hathaway lies naked and spread-eagled on his bed in the dim light filtering through the curtains. The noise of the street outside is diminished by the languor of a hot summer's day and muffled by the science of double glazing.   
His eyes are closed and his expression peaceful, which might surprise any unexpected visitor, given the leather cuffs confining him to the one position.   
He is waiting and knows the wait is as important a part of the preparation as his shower and the stripping of the visual accoutrements of his working day. Clearing his mind of the detritus of a complex case is not such an easy task and even now he catches himself wondering if the brother really had no idea or if he deluded himself.  
James' mind is a gift, able to remember a plethora of diverse and obscure facts and to sift through that cornucopia to piece together a picture of a crime or to provide an apt quotation with equal facility. But it is constantly busy, almost obsessively taking in information, evaluating it and storing it against a time of need. Relaxing his brain requires the removal of stimuli, finding a way to slow the borderline compulsive desire to know.  
Here, like this he can settle and let the physical body take precedence for once without the artificial high of nicotine. He is becoming more aware of sensation, the sheet against his back, the firm clasp of the cuffs like a hand holding him still. The warmth of the leather makes him smile as he remembers their laughter at the mere thought of metal handcuffs and their association with his working life, hardly conducive to letting go. He had been out with a girl once, when he first joined the police force, who had been intrigued by the idea of police officers taking their handcuffs home. Not surprisingly that had been their only date, as she seemed unable to grasp that he might want to talk about things other than his job. How lucky he was to find a partner who knew better and knew what James needed after days spent hunting clues and interviewing witnesses.  
The room is warm but James can feel a slight movement of the air, barely enough to be call a draft, wafting over his body like an very gentle touch. He starts to feel arousal at the thought of fingers drifting over him so very lightly. His mind is calming and his body is getting its chance to be heard after days of caffeine, nicotine, hasty, unsatisfying and not very healthy meals sandwiched between limited periods of broken sleep and the frantic activity of a murder inquiry. Peace, a concept with which he is very familiar, but the practice of which has tended to elude him. Until now; until he found him; the one person who seems to understand him. Not the glib, clever, smart mouthed Sergeant, not the priestly candidate struggling to accept all that he was told, nor even the brilliant Head Boy destined for great things, but the emptiness inside which he hides so well. Someone who realised that he needs to still his restless brain in order to open up the person inside and let the emptiness be filled with love and care and endless patience. That meditation was in reality another outlet for an already overworked mind when what he needed was to be grounded in his physical body and to let loose the emotions constantly bottled up inside. To explore not his thoughts on events, but his feelings. Kept tightly tied up inside of him they handicapped him, made him an emotional cripple. But let loose they let him fly, let him soar away from mental convolutions and justifications and, briefly, let him bask in their intensity so that he could in turn let them go and give himself peace.  
He breathed slowly and rhythmically, at ease but not asleep, tingling on the edge of arousal, sensitive to the slightest physical sensation, as the door opened quietly. His smile was calm but he was too relaxed to even voice the thought, 'perfect timing' as his lover slipped into the room.


End file.
